


Flashback

by PeachGO3



Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine, Star Trek: The Next Generation
Genre: Casual Sex, Fluff and Humor, M/M, Oblivious Julian Bashir, One Night Stands, i can't believe this is a tag already shdfjksk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-09
Updated: 2020-08-09
Packaged: 2021-03-05 20:08:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,721
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25801114
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PeachGO3/pseuds/PeachGO3
Summary: When a doctor can’t stop thinking about an android. Got the idea from Tina Arena’s song “Flashback” ☆
Relationships: Julian Bashir & Jadzia Dax, Julian Bashir/Data
Comments: 14
Kudos: 29





	Flashback

He’s a Starfleet colleague, Julian thinks. He’s a genuinely nice person and helped you understand a scientific subject you’re interested in.

It’s science. Professional, clean, fumigated, detached. Derived from facts.

“It’s science,” Julian says aloud as he stares into his holomirror. But his face distorts into a helpless grimace, and his shoulders slope down, making him look like an unhappy mannequin.

“Science,” he murmurs to himself as he hastily pulls the shirt over his head. It had looked so good on the replicator’s screen, but now that he’s tried it on, the pearly white fabric had let certain memories resurface. Memories that make his chest tingle.

Julian can’t believe he’s this miserable.

“Am I objectifying him?” he whines across the table. Jadzia frowns. “What do you mean? Because the shirt reminded you of his skin color?”

Julian nods slowly, wanting to put himself into an open airlock. “It looked so nice. Perfect for dinner with you,” he whimpers.

“Why didn’t you keep it on?”

“Are you kidding me?”

“Why? Sounds exciting to me.”

Julian leans back with a face. “The _misery_! I can’t believe this keeps happening to me!”

“Well,” Jadzia begins, just when Quark arrives with their drinks. “Here you go,” he chirps and sets down the tablet. Good, Julian thinks with relief. He’s in terribly bad need of a drink. But then he notices the colour of his cocktail.

_“Your father went through extraordinary lengths to make you look human. Yet your eyes are bright yellow.”_

_“I understand it is not a naturally occurring eye color among humans. However, I never felt the need to change it. It has never bothered me.”_

_“No, that’s not what I was suggesting! I think they’re a lovely colour, actually.”_

_“I am… happy to hear that, doctor.”_

“Julian?”

Julian looks up slowly, fingers drumming against the glass. He feels like crying.

“Julian?” Jadzia asks again, giving him a knowing smile. Only now does he notice that she’d risen her drink. They clink glasses, but Julian can’t drink. It’s the exact same shade of yellow. Oh, curse Quark and his ‘recommendations’.

Julian’s head falls onto the table. “I can’t believe this. How can a single person be under so much stress? Can you _imagine_ the stress I’m under?”

“Take it easy,” Jadzia says, and he can hear the smile in her voice. “You’re most likely overthinking this. I’m sure he wouldn’t mind if he knew.”

“He _must never know_. The last thing he’d want to hear is being objectified like this.”

“Oh, come on, being reminded about him doesn’t mean you’re ‘objectifying’ him. I’m sure he respects you.”

“Yeah, what makes you so sure of that?” Julian mutters, head still between his arms. “Your paper,” Jadzia says, “in the Starfleet Cybernetics Journal. He commented it as, quote, highly accurate, insightful, and praised your overall work with him. It was a big step for him in terms of personal growth.”

“That paper,” Julian says, “was agonising to write. You wanna know why?”

“I’m nodding,” Jadzia teases, and Julian finally looks up into her warm eyes. “It was born out of scientific interest,” Julian mourns. “It really was. His brain _is_ fascinating, and I do love to get into cybernetics again. But do you know what I said to him after I had asked about the possibility of writing about him?”

Jadzia shrugs, amused smile still not leaving her face.

“I said,” Julian says with a painful distortion on his features, “sweet dreams. ‘Sweet dreams’!”

“It was a dream program,” Jadzia argues, taking another sip of her drink.

“It _was!_ But still…!”

“You probably thought it was charming at the time.”

“Exactly! I made a love-blind arse of myself!”

Now Jadzia puts down her drink. “Stop sulking, Julian,” she says in that voice that makes you remember she’s a three-hundred-year-old alien. Julian, albeit still frowning, tries to obey and sits up straight, hands folded on the table.

“Listen,” Jadzia says with a smile and lays her hand on top of his. “You keep having these flashbacks to situations that make you feel awkward, or make you remember embarrassing situations. And you cringe.”

“I do,” Julian agrees, miserably. What’s new?

“But do you want to hear how broadly you smiled when I saw you read that comment of his in the Journal?” Jadzia asks with sparkles in her eyes. Julian pauses.

“It’s not about negative emotions, is it?” she asks and squeezes his hand. “Try remembering the positive ones.”

She leans back to drink, one arm over the chair’s backrest, and Julian feels himself melt into a twinkling softness that always overcomes him when he thinks about the little smile Data had given him when they had shaken hands for the first time. How interested he was when Julian had explained something in far too great detail, how he had listened. How he had taken his hand when pressing him back into the mattress.

Making awkward pauses and silences is probably just his nature, right? Maybe those weren’t signs of discomfort after all.

Overall, the time on the Enterprise has been great. Jadzia is right, it probably wasn’t a big deal at all.

“See?” she asks, and Julian panics if he’s sporting a blush that might give him away. Jadzia empties her drink and exhales before saying, “You know, if I kept having flashbacks about everything awkward that had ever happened to me, Benjamin would have to relieve me of duty.”

“Maybe,” Julian shrugs with a soft smile. His gaze drops to the bright yellow cocktail in front of him, and he dreamily plays with the tiny umbrella. It’s the same turquoise shade as his medical uniform. Would Data remember that colour, too? Somewhere in all those calculations in his head? What was he doing right now? Navigating the Federation’s flagship through wide fields of sparkling stars?

Oh, being in love isn’t so bad when you got to the bottom of it.

“Isn’t being in love wonderful?” he hears Quark say right next to his ear and immediately regrets everything.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *. ☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

He’s a Starfleet colleague, Julian thinks. He’s a genuinely nice person and helped you understand a scientific subject you’re interested in.

It’s science. Professional, clean, fumigated, detached. Derived from facts.

It was a one-night stand. Detached, just like science. Easy. A nice extra activity to close a nice trip on the U.S.S. Enterprise.

A one-night stand, you know, that thing where people stay for _one night_ and don’t make a fuss about ever seeing each other again.

“I asked him about his sexual organs,” Julian remembers with his hands pressed into his face. He must look utterly miserable, sitting on his bed like this, but he cannot help it – having discussed Data so much with Jadzia tonight, he cannot help but remember the feeling of his bioplast skin, the exotic smell of his body, once he had settled into bed.

The way his breath had hitched when Julian had –

“Get it together!” Julian calls to himself with such a stark emphasis on each word that he just falls back onto the sheets, arms wide, eyes staring at the ceiling with remorse.

It had seemed like a good idea at the time, wanting to discuss the experiment’s findings with Data. Going to his private quarters because he wasn’t on the bridge anymore. They made easy conversation and taken care of the little cat, even that Julian had enjoyed. Commenting on his nice furnishing, the paintings, the playing on his violin.

Falling back onto the bed like he had done just now.

Julian wants to cry. Had Data even given proper consent? Or was he possibly afraid to decline and then get lambasted in the Starfleet Cybernetics Journal? Him and his dreams?

Julian rolls sideways. He would _never_ speak ill of Commander Data. Possibly one of the few people in the galaxy who could relate to Julian and his abilities. Not that they had openly spoken of it, but –

He had been _so kind_. He hardly knew Julian by the end of the experiment, and yet he listened to him, and then he _slept_ with him, and then Julian had left in a hurry, in a haste.

His stomach turns.

If the Enterprise were to blow up tomorrow, the last thing Data would have seen of Julian was him hurrying out of his dark quarters.

_“Goodbye, Data.”_

Oh _God_ , why is he cursed with such thoughts?! Julian rolls around on his sheets, but the knot in his stomach sits deep like a stone. That’s not how he wants to part with Data. In fact, he does not want to part with him at all. Well, he probably should, but not like _this_.

Desperate, Julian presses his eyes shut, but Data’s attentive face stays. Listening.

Right, he listens, so you should talk.

Julian rolls onto his back, opening his eyes to stare at the grey ceiling yet again. Do it now. “You’re gonna do this now,” he whispers and forces himself out of bed with one energetic jolt to his com terminal, where he stares at the screen with a smile. Just enter the registry number… NCC-1701-D…

And what now? Julian’s finger hovers over the Enter field. What will you talk about, hm? There’s no turning back once you’ve got the U.S.S. Enterprise, the Federation’s flagship, on the line.

In a terrible impulse, Julian presses down Enter anyway, without anything clever to say. He hasn’t even enough time to regret his decision, Lieutenant Worf’s hard features are already on-screen.

“Hello,” Julian smiles, confidently.

“Good evening,” Worf greets in that overly professional manner of his. “May I ask what your call is about?”

“I want to speak to Commander Data, please,” Julian says. His heart starts racing.

Worf nods. “I’ll put you through.”

“Thank you,” Julian smiles, running a bashful hand across his chest. Naked skin.

You’re naked, you idiot! Oh _God_ , imagine Commander Riker had taken your call…! A painful burst of self-awareness jolts through Julian. With panic boiling in his hands, he looks around. The only shirt near enough is – that peal-white monstrosity. Julian feels the universe laughing at him in irony.

As he pulls it over his head, he hears his voice: “Doctor?”

“Yes,” Julian calls, hurries back to the terminal and straightens up. It’s Data, and he greets him with his friendly smile, and Julian can’t help but grin. “Hello,” he smiles, sighing quietly. Data’s eyes match his uniform and the yellow panels of Engineering so well. He looks Heavenly.

This call was already worth the bother.

“You wanted to speak with me?” Data asks in his soft voice.

“Yes,” Julian goes and strokes some of his hair behind his ear. “I, erm…” He breathes in deeply, remembering he has nothing to say, and his face breaks into a giant smile yet again. “You look good. How are you?”

Data tilts his head with a raised chin and that little smile of his. “I am very well. Thank you, doctor.” Then his brows drop into a frown. “However, I cannot help but notice that you yourself look…”

“Messy, yeah,” Julian sighs and runs a shaking hand through his hair. His heart still won’t calm down. “I’ve had a rough evening, so to speak. Lots of challenging stuff. I’m sorry.”

Stop talking, you idiot!

“Your appearance is not a problem,” Data replies with a microscopic shake of his head. Right, he probably couldn’t care less about how Julian looked.

Julian puts his hands on his hips. “So, um… How is your mission going? And, oh, the dream program, Data? Have you figured out anything new since last month?”

Proud of his semi-professional inquiry, Julian smiles at the screen. But Data just blinks – one time, two times. And then he opens his mouth wide to say, “There have been a few instances that I have documented and would like to share with you.”

Julian smiles widely. “Yes, very well, absolutely.”

Data’s features soften into an almost comically casual look. “Maybe we could meet to discuss them, sometime soon?”

“Absolutely,” Julian beams, feet moving excitedly below the terminal.

“Very well. I will discuss the matter with Captain Picard and see to obtaining a shuttle craft to visit Deep Space Nine within the next few days. I will contact you shortly.”

“Oh, that sounds wonderful, Data,” Julian says without any precaution influencing his voice.

Data nods with that little smile of his. “I look forward to seeing you again.”

“So do I,” Julian smiles. Data looks at him a little while longer, and then, just when Julian thinks he’s about to hang up, he starts a conversation about Sherlock Holmes holodeck programs, and they talk and talk, jumping from one topic to another, until the Enterprise’s annoyed Chief Engineer puts an end to it.

But even then, all that Julian can do is smile into his bedsheet. Data would be coming to DS9! It had been a good idea to just give him a call. Wearily, Julian smiles at the shirt draped over his chair. The fabric glistens in the faint starlight.

_“What is your skin made of anyway?”_

_“My android skeleton is covered by 1.34 kilograms of bioplast sheeting that are specifically modified to serve the approximate appearance of human skin. What are you looking for, doctor?”_

_“Oh, I’m sorry. Nothing – It’s just, when you eye it closely, it does have a golden shimmer to it.”_

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *. ☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“I’m so glad he’s coming. Ever since the Enterprise has left, I haven’t been the same,” Julian says to Jadzia as they make their way across the docking ring.

Jadzia mock-frowns. “Not yourself?” she repeats.

Julian gestures vaguely around his stomach. “Yeah, I’ve felt kind of… jumpy,” he explains.

“Well, it didn’t show. You’ve been as smug and self-indulgent as always,” she finds, her voice laced with amusement. “You’ve been self-engrossed and solely talking about yourself, annoyed everyone around you, and-”

“Thank you,” Julian sings when they stop in front of the docking door.

“Just wanted to ease your concerns,” Jadzia says with a smile. Julian wants to reply something cocky, despite knowing she never means any harm with her honest comments, but that’s when the door rolls open. The airlock reveals Commander Data and his shoulder bag, and he smiles down at Julian.

“Welcome to Deep Space Nine,” Jadzia says, but Julian can hardly hear her through his ears. His heart is beating too loudly.

“A pleasure to meet you, Lieutenant Dax,” Data replies and steps down to shake Julian’s hand. “And nice to see you again, doctor,” he says with a soft smile.

“Hello, Data,” Julian all but swoons. Yellow eyes still shining, electric pupils contracting and dilating as if to adjust to the new lighting. Amazing.

_“I am sorry, but use of sickbay equipment is limited to ship’s medical personnel.”_

_“Ah. Doctor Julian Bashir, Chief Medical Officer, Deep Space Nine. And you are… Commander Data – the synthetic lifeform.”_

_“Yes.”_

_“It’s an honour to meet you, sir. I’ve heard so much about you…”_

“Um,” Julian says with a glance to Jadzia after realising he’s shaken Data’s hand for far too long. “Amazing of Captain Picard to let you continue our experiments here on DS9, really,” he says in a lousy attempt at making noncommittal conversation.

“The Captain was most countenancing in his words. I ought to send you his kindest regards.”

“Thank you,” Jadzia smiles, hands behind her back.

Nice, introductions are over. Julian rubs his hands and asks, “So, are you guys hungry? I thought we could maybe grab something to eat on the promenade.”

Of course Jadzia is quick to say that she’s afraid she won’t be able to come along because she’s busy in ops. So, she excuses herself and turns around on her heels. Data looks after her, intrigued. “It was nice making the acquaintance of a Trill,” he says.

Jadzia flashes them a knowing smile over her shoulder as she leaves.

Julian collects himself. “Right. Um, would you like to go to the replimat?” he says with his arm pointing the way.

Data gives him a polite look. “As an android, I have no need for nourishments,” he explains.

“Oh,” says Julian, realisation dragging out long. How did he not know that Data doesn’t eat? He frowns. “No need at all? Nothing?”

With an assessing expression, Data explains, “I do occasionally ingest semi-organic nutrient suspension in a silicon-based liquid medium to lubricate my biofunctions. It is easily programmable. I would very much like to accompany you.”

Julian nods. “Splendid. Wonderful, in fact. Follow me, please!”

There is short line at the replimat Julian frequents for his lunches with Garak, but Data has no problem with waiting. Smalltalk about the shuttlecraft’s rough ride and the special architecture of DS9 are quickly finished, and silence takes over – something Julian lets seldomly happen in conversations. As they stand next to each other, hands folded politely, he steals a few careful glances at Data.

He does not behave differently, which prompts Julian to think that there is no bad blood between them. He’s relieved to see Data give that kind of impression. He’s just as agreeable and pleasant-natured as he was during their subspace call. Just as affable as he was before they had…

_“Ha… yes, yes! Right there, don’t stop… ah… Data…!”_

Head flushing like a Vulcan firestone, Julian turns away not-so-inconspicuously. You’re on the bloody promenade, get it together, man! Good gracious, this was getting out of hand. It was kind of hot – but it was _also_ getting out of hand.

Data eyes him carefully. “Is something wrong, doctor?”

“No!” Julian answers way too loudly, and adds “Look, it’s almost your turn!” to distract them both. He laughs uncomfortably, but Data’s misbelieving blink is all too human and makes him melt inside.

That is exactly what he had told Jadzia about – Julian is not his smooth-talking and brash self anymore. He’s always less impetuous with guys than he is with girls, but this is a whole new level of teenage butterflies and bashfulness.

He swallows. Data could not have possibly forgotten that night, yet he was making no reference to it whatsoever. Was he _that_ polite? Or what was the reason for his unchanged behaviour?

When it is their turn, Data puts down his shoulder bag and inspects the replimat with rushing eyes. “The necessary nutrient suspension is not programmed into this replicator. I will attempt to add it to the system’s library,” he says.

“Cardassian technology,” Julian says in an apologetic tone as he watches Data wiggle his fingers before letting them dance over the keyboard. They move so fast that their pearly colour blurs in the movements.

That is _so_ impressive. Julian looks around with a proud smile to make sure that everybody noticed that uniform wearing android and his extraordinary abilities. “Good Lord, would you look at that.” And then he continues to watch Data, whose left mouth corner curls upwards in the tiniest of smirks as he programs the fluid. Amazing.

Data asks Julian what he would like, orders for both of them, and then they sit down in a quite corner of the replimat with their meal. Well, Data’s ‘nutrient suspension’ is just a glass of beige liquid, but they clink glasses anyway.

Julian rejoices at his calming heartrate. Taking a huge bite of his Andorian calzone, he smiles at Data.

“So – tell me about the new program. How are the dreams coming? Tell me all about it.”

Data folds his hands on the table and glances at them. “Currently, I am shutting down my cognitive functions for three hours on average. This is longer than I originally intended. However, I have found that the internal visions intensify with a prolonged shut-down of my cognitive systems.”

“Yes, that figures. Well, what exactly do you mean by ‘intensify’?” Julian asks, intrigued.

Data seems to think about that. “For one, they feel longer,” he says. “As my internal chronometer cannot measure the exact length of each vision within the time of the shut-down, it is hard to say how long I am actually exposed to them.”

Julian nods.

“Longer visions take more unexpected turns than shorter ones that might get prematurely ended by my reactivating the cognitive systems,” Data explains. “Within three hours, I am able to take in more images and sensory input that might give a me clue to the nature of the previously dormant circuits my father had given me.”

“Are you saying your exploring the possibility of a subconscious within your positronic net?” Julian asks, lungs filling with air of adventure.

“Counselor Troi has made a similar point during my sessions with her,” Data remembers. “I think it is an accurate analogy.”

“Data, that is amazing!” Julian beams and leans back in his chair, arms opened wide. His marvelling laugh makes Data’s lips curl in pride.

“This is extraordinary,” Julian continues, leaning in close again over calzones and tumblers. “I’m serious, this could be a break-through in cybernetic research. The subconscious is a fascinating point of debate in human psychology alone, let alone Vulcan research centres, because its very concept is so hard to grasp. And now with you entering the scene – do you realize how significant this is?”

Data smiles at him. “Indeed, the debate about the extent the subconscious’ power on a person’s behavior is most intriguing.”

“Right? There is nothing like picking apart Freund.”

“Personally, I find T’Puva’s theories to be superior in their reasoning as well as scientific audit.”

“Oh, I know, right? T’Puva was a master of her discipline! It’s still required reading at the Academy.”

Data smiles, head tilted. “I am glad to hear your enthusiasm on the matter,” he says.

“’Enthusiasm’ is too little a word,” Julian laughs, eyes always on Data and his fascinating features.

“It a most encouraging prospect. But before I want to enter psychoanalytical debate, I would like to try and find out what all of this means for myself,” Data says with unwavering certainty.

“Of course!” Julian smiles and folds his hands in front of Data’s. “Then tell me about it, if you like.”

Data’s brows rise in a cute expression. “About what, doctor?”

“What kind of sensory input you get in your visions,” Julian specifies and nips at his glass, eyes firmly on Data. “What you dream about, so to speak.”

“Ah,” says Data. He looks down to sort his thoughts. Then his yellow eyes search the room as though to check if anyone was listening. He leans in carefully, and Julian’s heart skips a beat.

“Perhaps we should discuss the matter somewhere a little more… private.”

“Really?” Julian says absently, gaze lingering on pearl lips. Such a beautiful mouth. And now he watches it gulp down the whole glass of nutrient in one go.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *. ☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

He’s a Starfleet colleague, Julian thinks. He’s a genuinely nice person and helped you understand a scientific subject you’re interested in.

It’s science. Professional, clean, fumigated, detached. Derived from facts.

It’s just sex. Plain and simple. Just because someone might get back to you after a one-night stand does not mean anything, and they don’t owe you anything. Data does not owe you anything. But _you_ do owe him respect.

Julian stares at the ceiling and feels as though he’s about to cry. “I can’t believe we did this again,” he mourns. He rolls his head sideways to look at Data, who smiles so absurdly satisfied that Julian wants to reach out and pinch his pretty cheeks.

They’ve done it again.

Shifting on the sheets, Julian rolls onto his side to watch Data, whose hands are folded on his stomach.

“This was most satisfactory, was it not,” he says, eyes unmoved from what was most likely some kind of sensory overload. If he wasn’t so cute, it would probably look rather unnerving.

Julian agrees with a quiet hum, head supported by his angled arm.

He swallows. ‘ _I dream about you, Julian’._ The second time that Data had used his first name, and not ‘doctor’.

_“I dream about you, Julian. Of you being with me on the Enterprise. I also see images of the two of us being together, naked, like we were the night before you left the Enterprise. Only more… intense. I hear your voice when you achieve your sexual climax beneath my body. I feel a wide variety of different sensations during these kinds of visions. What do you think this means about a possible subconscious of mine?”_

Yeah, what _does_ it mean, Julian wonders. Data’s head turns and yellow eyes shine. Pupils contract and dilate. He’s so close…

‘ _Julian’._ Not ‘doctor’. Not ‘doctor’, even though it should be science. Professional, clean, fumigated, detached. Derived from facts.

“I’m sorry,” Julian whispers.

Data tilts his head ever so slightly.

Julian shakes his head and closes his eyes to blend things out. “I’m sorry,” he specifies with a shaky laugh, “for having sex with you again after talking about the experiment. I don’t want to disrespect your research or invalidate the dreams you were having.”

He opens his eyes and watches Data’s lips part in a confused expression. “The way I remember it,” he says (doesn’t he remember everything to its exact detail?), “I consented to this as much as you did. However, if you-”

“I better get back to my own quarters,” Julian says. He wants to flee the bed, the warmth, but the way he gets away from Data feels more like a miserably shameful retreat than a flight. “I’m sure Commander Sisko wants to greet you in the morning. I shouldn’t be here,” he says as he slips back into his uniform’s turtleneck.

“I understand,” he hears Data reply. They don’t say anything else. And Julian sinks deeper and deeper into self-loathing. His tongue feels heavy in his mouth.

You’ve done it again, you bloody idiot.

Uniform jacket in his hands, Julian turns around to take a look at Data. Sitting naked on the bed with a neutral expression on his face.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” Julian says with a poor attempt at a smile.

Data nods.

And Julian nods, too. “Goodbye, Data.”

_“Goodbye, Data.”_

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *. ☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Jadzia listens closely, but Julian can’t bring himself to look her in the eye. “Where is he now?” he hears her ask.

“Getting a station tour by Odo.”

“A station tour? Shouldn’t you be the one showing him around?”

Julian grimaces and shakes his head. “Nah. Don’t think so,” he says, softly.

“Why not?” Jadzia asks, and the question makes Julian sigh. “I guess I’m not the right person to be around him,” he says, finally meeting her eyes. She looks confused and lowers their walking speed.

“You know,” she says, “I can’t help but feel like your almost obsessive fear about objectifying him stems from the fact that you still perceive him as just that – an object, a technological marvel – rather than a person.”

Julian frowns. “What? What makes you think that? Of course I see him as a person.”

“That’s not what it looks like to me,” Jadzia says, and Julian panics at the almost detached sounding tone she uses as her gaze roams the promenade. “You’ve told me lots and lots about his programming and his positronic brain, and what that brain is capable of. I remember your excitement over him being as personable as he is. But you never tell me anything about the person ‘Data’. About what he’s interested in, or what his hobbies are.”

“Oh,” Julian goes, “easy. He’s a great fan of Sherlock Holmes and has even developed his own holodeck programs for roleplaying. And also-”

“Julian,” Jadzia interrupts him, stopping entirely, “that’s exactly what I mean! Have you been talking to him about going to a holosuite to roleplay together?”

Julian frowns. “No.”

“Have you asked him about his violin playing?”

“His playing is extraordinary-”

“What’s his favorite piece to play?” Jadzia asks, and it’s then when Julian finally realises her point – because he realises he doesn’t know. He sinks into a backwards step.

“You’ve heard him play, right?”

“I did,” he says bitterly. “But I’ve never asked him about…” Julian’s voice trails off.

_“Your rendition is excellent, Data! This is such a delicate and difficult instrument to master, and yet you play it with so much emotion.”_

_“Thank you, doctor. However, it is not real ‘emotion’. I am merely imitating other musicians’ playing styles to merge them into a mixture of my own.”_

_“Well, isn’t that what everybody does when they play? Either way, you do sound amazing.”_

_“Thank you, doctor.”_

Julian’s breath hitches when Jadzia takes his cold hands. He feels absolutely miserable.

But Jadzia gives him a smile. “You’ve been so preoccupied with bringing scientific distance between you and him that you forgot to get to him as a person. Imagine you’d ask me what I liked – not to surprise me when we meet the next time and make me happy, but only to marvel at how a Trill could develop preferences and indispositions. As if it was a surprise that I could do that.”

“That’s exactly what I’ve been doing,” Julian laments, squeezing her hands. “I thought about analysing his violin play, his ability to be a fan of Arthur Conan Doyle. But I’ve never… Good Lord, but I do love him.”

“Then you’ve gotta go the extra mile, Julian,” Jadzia smiles. “You always have to if you want to take care of your relationships. Talk to him.”

Julian looks up. “I will.” With this, he storms forward into the promenade’s crowd, where hopefully Odo and Data would stroll right now. He’d just have to keep looking for them.

Being treated as a circus attraction is exactly how he never wanted to be treated himself, and now he’s done it to Data all the time. Treating him as though he was unable to consent to sexual intimacy – oh, _that_ has been objectifying all right, patronising, all those things he despised so much. He wouldn’t even be mad at Data in case their friendship had ended now.

“I am an idiot,” Julian mumbles to himself, wanting to punch himself out of the panorama windows. “I am an idiot. I am a bloody idiot. I am a-”

“Doctor.”

“Oh.”

To his right, Odo and Data descend from a stairway. Data smiles at him softly. “Good morning, doctor,” he greets from behind Odo’s back.

“Hi,” Julian says and can’t help but smile across his whole face, although he still feels wretched. Stupid butterflies – by now, there weren’t mere butterflies in his stomach, they rather felt like those giant Klingon desert moths. Julian fumbles with his hands.

“Constable Odo was just telling me about the upper pylons of the station.”

“Was he,” Julian asks and looks down as the euphoria of seeing Data melts back into boiling shame.

“I’m about to show Commander Data the upper pylon airlocks,” Odo explains.

There is pause, and Julian is almost proud of himself for catching up: “I can do that.”

The Constable gives him an unreadable look.

“I can show Commander Data the upper pylon airlocks,” Julian repeats, smile creeping back onto his face. Only this time it feels genuine. “The view onto the station from there is fantastic, you should really see it.” You should see it, and after you’ve seen it, we can talk.

And they go see it.

On their way up, Julian can feel the nervousness numbing his body and somehow making him feel hypersensitive and self-aware at the same time. Heartrate rising.

“Have you slept well, Julian?” Data asks him casually as they near the corner of the airlock. _‘Julian’._

Julian gives him a sheepish look. “No, actually. I’ve been thinking.”

Data nods. “I, too, have experienced that such pre-occupation can disturb one’s sleep schedule.”

There, Julian thinks, here’s something to hook into. He stops walking to look at Data. “You _think_ when you go to sleep? Err, in the sense of ‘overthinking’, I mean. No offense,” he says awkwardly. Wow, this is terrible already.

Data nods with a casual expression. “None taken. I often find myself actively looking for new loopholes, so to speak, that prevent me from deactivating my cognitive systems.”

“Sounds to me like you’re procrastinating,” Julian smiles. “Why?” he asks. “Usually people procrastinate when they want to avoid unpleasant things.”

“That is not the description I would use to talk about my visions,” Data frowns. Yeah, because those are about sex, right? Julian steps up to him for encouragement. “It’s okay,” he says. “Tell me what it is that preoccupies you before going to bed. Anything.”

Data’s yellow eyes twitch. “Then should we not return to your laboratory?”

Julian feels his heart sink. “No,” he says softly and lays a hand onto Data’s arm. “No, that’s exactly what I don’t wanna do anymore.”

“Do you not wish to continue our studies?” Data asks. There’s a movement around his brows that Julian painfully reads as disappointment. “I do,” he answers. “I really do. But… I also want to get to know you better, as a person. As a friend.” He gently squeezes Data’s arm, hoping he would understand.

Yellow eyes search his below a soft frown.

“Look,” Julian says and straightens up. “I’m afraid that I haven’t really been fair to you, Data.” He inhales deeply and lowers his voice. Time to put the cards on the table.

“I feel that I have been… objectifying you. Not really seeing you as a person but rather as a cybernetic marvel. I’ve been distancing myself from you with a scientific excuse my brain made up, especially after hearing that you _dreamed_ about me.”

Data listens.

“I guess what I want to say is that I’m sorry if I hurt your feelings,” Julian ends and squeezes the arm a last time before letting go.

Data’s frown softens. “I have no feelings that could get hurt,” he says.

“Um, well-”

“Distancing oneself, too, is a sign of avoiding something unpleasant,” Data remarks, eyes moving fast. The corner of his mouth curls upwards into that almost-smirk of his. “It sounds to me as though you have been afraid of my visions of us, or a relationship.”

A relationship?! “Afraid?” Julian frowns as he considers that possibility. He _is_ madly in love. But those facts are not contradicting each other.

“Yes. Fear would explain your heightened heartrate and perspiration, as well as certain behavioural patterns,” Data says, and his excited babbling makes Julian smile. He sounds as though he had just found the last missing puzzle piece to something Julian could not see yet. “The evidence is striking. Certain insecurities and an avoidance of communication, as if to shut out possible negative consequences-”

“Ha, yeah.”

“-as well as uncertainty and ataxic respiration during sexual intercourse and-”

“N-no,” Julian intervenes shakily. “No, I’m just… I suck in bed, I guess,” he chuckles, and Data closes his mouth.

And they just smile at each other for a whole while.

_“I understand it is not a naturally occurring eye color among humans. However, I never felt the need to change it. It has never bothered me.”_

_“No, that’s not what I was suggesting! I think they’re a lovely colour, actually.”_

“Gosh, I could stare into your eyes forever.”

Just when Julian wants to lean in, another crewmember turns the corner in front of them and greets them loudly, so that both Julian and Data duck their heads. Julian straightens up and shows Data the way to the airlock.

Walking feels so light now. Curious.

“I am curious, Julian,” Data says. “If my hypothesis of you having been afraid of my visions about you, I wonder if – there was another occasion before I shared my visions with you, an occasion that might have scared you?”

“Not consciously, no,” Julian wonders. “I’m not scared of you, far from it.”

Data smiles.

“Oh,” Julian remembers and pauses. Of course. Of- _fucking_ -course!

“I have had heavy re-experiencing of our time on the Enterprise,” he breathes and feels himself getting excited. “Certain situations, triggered by all kinds of different stimuli – optical, olfactory, tactile – as if I was really there, all over again.”

“A flashback,” Data concludes.

“Yes, exactly!” Julian exclaims. “Flashbacks of things gone by” – he inhales deeply – “whereas _you_ have been experiencing visions about what could have been, right?” How poetic, almost!

Data nods. “Yes.”

“Yes – but what does it mean?” Julian asks with a face, suddenly so close to him again. Data looks at him almost sheepishly. “Earlier, you have stated the possibility of me being afraid of something that prompts me to – _procrastinate_ engaging in the dream program,” he says. “Maybe that was because I had concluded that I would never be able to achieve what I was going to see in my vision, if it should happen to be about you again. That prospect is quite unsatisfactory.”

“What?” Julian asks.

Data lifts his chin. “From your behavior during and after our time on the Enterprise, I concluded that any conversation about pursuing a relationship would make you – uncomfortable. So, I decided to not bring up the topic.”

Julian’s shoulders slope down. ‘Pursuing a relationship’? Again with that word, ‘relationship’?

_Oh._

“Oh, Data,” he sighs. Had Data honestly considered being with him?

“Do not worry,” Data is quick to say. “As I mentioned earlier, I have no emotions that could have been hurt in the process.”

Julian laughs. “But you do show consideration for mine! That requires _empathy_ , Data,” he says, squeezing his arm again. “And, oh,” – he leans in – “the want to ‘pursue a relationship’ sounds rather emotional to me.”

Data’s lips curl upwards. “So, you are not opposed?”

“No,” Julian smiles, and it feels as though ten tons of pergium had just been lifted off his shoulders. Blissfully, he leans in to push them inside the airlock corridor, where a million stars light up the station. The wormhole unfurls gracefully as Data stares in awe.

Yellow eyes shining, electric pupils contracting and dilating. And they keep dilating when he turns to look at Julian.

Oh, bloody hell. This really is far from science, Julian thinks. He smiles and intertwines their fingers to squeeze them gently. With his head on Data’s shoulder, they smile outside into the universe.

“So, we go casual, hm? Do we keep this a purely sexual thing?” Julian asks and lets his free hand dance on Data’s shoulder, which should either feel very seductive or incredibly awkward.

Data shifts a bit and doesn’t talk. Which is strange. “I feel like the benefits of a – purely sexual relationship with you,” he says carefully, “would not be… exactly fulfilling.”

Julian frowns. He just called him a bad shag. “Am I that lousy in bed?” he asks in disappointment.

Data stays awkwardly polite when he answers, “I do enjoy our intimacy very much, so maybe we could practice, in a way. Practice makes perfect.”

“That’s a bloody lie,” Julian laments, but he already has another idea: “Maybe, in addition to the occasional… _get-together_ , and our work on your dream program, we could program a holosuite routine to play when you’re here,” he says. “I’m sure there’s some story where Sherlock Holmes meets a handsome undercover agent or something.”

“That is something I have wanted to ask you about, too. It would be my pleasure to write such a program,” Data says.

“Great,” Julian smiles upwards. “In fact, we can do whatever you like. Play sports, read together, just not that awful Cardassian stuff, please. Just tell me what you’d like.”

Data smiles that cute, curly smile of his and puts an awkward arm around Julian, as though he just learned as he went. But Julian indulges in it, flushing furiously, it’s just that good. He buries his blushing face in Data’s uniform and smells the exotic detergent spray and feels the fabric and hears the artificial heartbeat. Increased.

“Someone needs a doctor,” Julian whispers – and the kiss that follows is awkward as hell, but it’s a kiss, all right. Good thing that Data babbles a lot of nonsense himself, because even as he continues to fuck Julian senseless against the wall, Julian can’t keep his bloody mouth shut.

_I still think about you, baby  
More than a memory  
A flame that will not die  
Let me tell you – you wanna know it?_

_I’m having a flashback, flashback, tonight…! .☆°  
_

**Author's Note:**

> I’m only on s3 of Deep Space Nine, so sorry if the characterisations felt off! Julian and Data are a fun and flashy 90s pair, so I combined them with a fun and flashy 90s song (*´▽`*)
> 
> Thank you for reading! ♡


End file.
